


Chemical Dream

by Ravvi



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Dehumanization, Drug Withdrawal, Exhibitionism, Force-Feeding, Humiliation, Non Consensual Drugging, Non-Consensual Medical Experimentation, Objectification, Omorashi, Other, Other tags at the beginnings of the chapters, Psychological Manipulation, Underfell Sans, Undertale Sans, assorted human scientists, meant to be read by absolute monstrous garbage only, noncon, one or the other, or doctors
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-23 07:16:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12501868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravvi/pseuds/Ravvi
Summary: Continuation ofthis lovely ficI requested from McLeech.  Turns out it came with a free story idea that I *cough* enjoyed VERY much  ^_^For those who didn’t want to go read through McLeech’s fic first the premise for this is that Underfell Sans has been captured and forced/trained to acquiesce to human study via drugs and habituation.





	1. Self Medication

Something was off that morning, and Sans couldn’t put his finger on what was wrong.  One part aggravation, and one part annoyance, he finally decided with an irritated sigh.  Or maybe it was just a heaping helping of some weird, internal imbalance that was making the sterile room he shared with the lab’s research dogs feel oppressively stuffy.  Perhaps it was also the reason why the oversized kennel he slept in felt claustrophobic, and why the inconsiderate babble of voices and yapping dogs was grating on his nerves.

Whatever the reason, he was ready to sink his fangs into the person who _finally_ came by that morning to let him out. The desire became markedly stronger as their gloved fingers groped the surface of his soul for for an agonizingly long time before finally sticking him with the needle. 

“Hahhh,” Sans flinched over the sharp pinch of fluid being pumped into his soul.  The light tingle that should have marked the drug’s dissolution into his body didn’t take the edge off as quickly as it should have, and Sans felt a brief flash of panic as his soul was returned and a hospital-issue smock was readjusted over his shoulders.  That was _it?!_  

“Follow me Red.”

The nickname sent an irritated flash of annoyance through his chest, but he soundlessly obeyed, taking a deep breath as he focused on the sedative trickling through his bones.  The pleasant tingle was _finally_ setting in, and he breathed a sigh of relief as the world softened and the aggravating grate of human voices diminished to a silly burble.  His expression relaxed, eyelights fuzzing around the edges as he lost himself to the titillating sensation of carpeted floor against his tarsals.  The cheap, polyester pile felt _amazing_ on the sensitive bone between his toes…

“Through here, Red.”

Sans reluctantly abandoned the carpet and padded docilely through an open doorway.   He was immediately greeted by a group of anxious-looking humans surrounding a gurney.  

“The Dean’s showed up in the audience,” one of the humans said tersely.  “People are starting to say that this is going to turn into another funding review.”

The human leading Sans sighed.  “Not much we can do about it now, it’s too late to change the presentation.  Just imagine him in his underwear or something, we’ve got bigger things to worry about.  Will someone prep Red?”

“Yeah, I’ve got it.  Red, climb up here,” one of them said, giving the gurney a little pat.

Sans hesitated, momentarily stumped by the absence of the footstool he usually used to climb up onto things.  After a moment, he clumsily grabbed onto the rail and tried to heave himself over it.  One of the doctors quickly moved to help him, then gave his head a brief rub once he’d settled himself.

“Mmmmm,” Sans hummed, leaning into the fingers.  To his surprise, they obligingly pressed back, stroking his cranium in a way that felt gloriously satisfying with the drug still thrumming through his body.  It was over far too quickly, but place where the human had touched him tingled warmly as his smock was removed and his position on the gurney was fussed over.

“Don’t bother, he’s just going to move again once we get out there,” one of the humans grumbled.  “Red, drink this.”

Someone pushed a beaker of orange liquid into his hands.  Sans automatically accepted it and tipped the contents into his mouth.  He only managed two swallows before he stopped with a grimace, recognizing the sour, burnt-plastic flavour of a drug that they’d been testing on him.

“Red, drink,” one of them said more firmly, tapping on the rim of the beaker.  Sans took a reluctant sip, shuddering as the taste coated the inside of his mouth.  

“All of it, come on,” the human sighed, gently pushing up on the bottom of the beaker.  Sans turned his head away and let go of the container.  The human cursed as they scrambled to catch it.

“Looks like he doesn’t like that orange flavour you added,” someone snickered.  “Told you we should have gone with strawberry.”

The other doctor rolled their eyes and pressed the rim of the beaker against Sans’ teeth, trying to pour the concoction into his mouth.  Sans closed his eyes and whined softly, letting the liquid dribble down his chin.  “C’mon you stubborn jerk, I had the dosage just right,” they sighed, pulling the beaker away.

“Rub his head and feed it to him,” the head doctor called from the other side of the room.  “Stop rubbing if he doesn’t drink.  You’ve got to give him an incentive for behaving.”

The first doctor made a face.  “Little help?”

“Yeah, yeah…” Another doctor moved up behind Sans and tucked their hands under his jawbone, holding his head firmly in place against their chest.  Sans made a small noise of complaint, then shivered when they started to rub the fingers of both hands over the sides of his head.

“All right, try it now,” they snorted over Sans’ little moans of appreciation.  The beaker was pressed against his teeth again, and he automatically swallowed, barely able to taste the drug (or feel his mouth, for that matter) over the obscenely generous petting.

“There you go, see?  It’s all about motivation,” the head doctor chuckled as Sans dopily finished off the beaker’s contents in several long, messy swallows.  “Don’t spoil him now,” they added as the doctor holding his head continued their liberal rubbing and Sans’ eyelights dilated to the size of quarters.  “He’s got to behave for an hour and we’ve never had him in front of this many people before.”

===

Sans had FINALLY figured out what was wrong with this day.  The drug.  The one the humans used to keep him stupid and docile.  His body was starting to get used to it.  What was the word…tolerance?  Whatever, it meant that he’d been given so much that his body had figured out how to break it down and ignore its effects.  Worse, it meant he was starting to go into withdrawal. 

Withdrawal...like a junkie in an alley with an armful of track-marks and a desperate need for something he couldn’t afford.  He’d seen those monsters before.  They never lasted long after they turned to the heavier shit.  Being addicted made you easy EXP.

How long had he been on that weird cocktail the humans kept pumping into his soul?  How long had he been in this…

Holy fuck, where even _was_ he?

“Here we go,” one of the humans muttered.  Sans felt the gurney jerk beneath him as he was wheeled into a blindingly bright room.  His oversensitive eyes smarted, and his head ached as he squinted into the space.  A large, circular area surrounded by a much larger, dimly lit space…

A human made some sort of introduction over a loudspeaker and applause exploded from the darkness.  Sans’ eyesockets widened with horror as he realized that he was sitting completely naked at the bottom of a circular amphitheater, literally surrounded by humans.

“In the interest of better understanding the monsters we rescued out of the Underground, we’ve developed some quasi-magical tracers,” the doctor was saying.  “They're designed to latch onto the normally invisible parts of semi-corporeal monsters and provide visible datapoints…”

Sans shivered in place, fighting the urge to bolt, to cover himself, to do ANYTHING but sit there and wait for whatever was coming.  How much had his reflexes been dampened by the drugs?  His magic?  His entire body felt fuzzy, and so goddamn _weak_.

“…normally operates based on radiopaque particles that can be picked up through a CT scan.  For the purposes of today’s demonstration, we’ve used a fluorescent variant that can be seen after exposure to ultraviolet light...”

Sans started when one of the humans touched him and murmured “Red, hold out your arms.”  Sans unthinkingly obeyed, head throbbing so sharply he felt a little nauseous.  Was that the drug, or just being freaked out?  Or maybe just a healthy dose of despair?  His eyes had adjusted and he could make out faces in the audience now.  Everyone he could see had that same, crushingly familiar expression.  Curious, and coldly attentive.  The kind of look that said ‘make him do that again,’ not ‘how are you today?’  Goddamn, being drugged was better than having to look at _that_...

“Red, hold still,” the human behind him hissed, then briefly ran an ultraviolet wand over his arm, shoulder, and rib-cage.  Where it passed, a bright orange matrix of tiny dots flashed into existence, hovering just over his bones in a dense net that tightened over his joints and flared to life when he flexed his fingers.  

“As you can see, there exists a magical matrix over the surface of the body that is linked to and fed by the monster’s circulatory system. Increased demand to an area provokes a positive response…” The human rattled on over oohs and ahhs. Sans took an uneven breath, shivering a little as sweat dribbled down his spine, over the curve of his ilium, and dripped off his outstretched arms.  An odd pressure was building up somewhere in the pit of his midsection, urgent and tight.  Was this another symptom of withdrawal, or something else?  Fuck, he felt terrible…

One of the humans impatiently grabbed him by the wrists and pushed his arms back down, like he was a poseable doll.  Sans wanted to bite their goddamn hands off as the fleshy, disgusting fingers moved over his body.  These humans were so, pathetically _weak._   He could kill them all so easily _-_

The realization was bewildering, mostly because he hadn’t thought of it before now.  Why hadn't he?  These humans were a joke.  Practically free EXP.  He could kill them without so much as batting an eye and then go back to the Underground and…

 _And then what_ , he wondered with a shiver.  He would still be addicted to this stupid drug without any way to get more.  Withdrawal usually got one hell of a lot worse before it got better, and he’d need a place to hide while it worked its way out of his system.  Who would protect him?  Who could he even trust…?

Sans’ eyes burned, and he dropped his head to his collarbones.  _Who could he trust_ , what a stupid question.  Nobody, that’s who.  He didn’t know how long it had been since he’d been captured, but he did know it had been a while.  It didn’t surprise him that nobody had come to rescue him, but he couldn’t deny that the realization hurt.

The audience applauded and Sans realized that their little presentation must be over.  He instinctively pressed his knees together as the sense of urgency grew, beginning to faintly recognize what was going on.  He’d been heavily drugged the last time the humans had tested this compound on him, but if he remembered right, then there was something in the formula that _wasn’t_ magical.  And that meant…

“We’ll now take a few minutes for questions from the audience,” the head doctor announced.

Sans whined softly, shaking a little as the pressure built up to an unbearable level.  Oh, fuck, he remembered what was going to happen now.

“Have you noticed any side effects from this drug?”

The doctor glanced over to Sans with a knowing smile.  “Nothing serious, but there is one consistent effect we know of.  The radiopaque particles and much of the carrier solution are non-magical, so once they circulate for a few minutes, they’re expelled from the body.  Don’t worry, we put a big absorbent pad under the sheet for...ah, there he goes.”

 Sans’ face burned as something inside him released and wet warmth spread down the insides of his femurs and into the surface beneath him.  The hazy relief he felt was almost as good as being shot full of the happy drug again, even though it was heavily tainted by mortification.  The liquid coming out of his body was bright orange, and lit up the sheet underneath him like a fucking neon sign.  

The audience went dead silent, then chuckles broke out, along with a few shouted ‘EEWWs!’  Sans tucked his arms tightly to his chest, wishing desperately he were anywhere but here.

“I see we have some undergraduates in the audience,” the head doctor commented drily, followed by more laughter.  “Come intern with me for a few weeks, we’ll get all that immaturity worked out.”  

A louder round of laughter rang out, and then the audience settled down.  A few more questions were exchanged while Sans was forced to sit in the rapidly cooling puddle beneath him, shaking more and more violently as the drug continued to wear off.  It was painfully clear just how vulnerable he'd be if he tried to go this on his own now.  Fucking hell, even one of _these_ humans could probably take him down, but...

But they wouldn't, he realized.  They wanted to keep him around for their little science projects.  That's why they'd drugged him in the first place, so they could mess around without having to worry about the fact that he was sentient and fully capable of killing him.  But for better or worse, they also took care of him.  Physically anyway.  He never starved and he might sleep in a dog crate, but it was warm, soft and dry.

And fucking hell, he _needed_ more of that drug.  He felt like he was dying.  He'd _rather_ die than have to go through this for much longer...

After what might as well have been an eternity, there was a final, enthusiastic round of applause and he was wheeled away.  Fucking _finally._

“Get him cleaned up before you go celebrate,” the head doctor said loudly over his colleague’s triumphant whoops.  There were some groans, and a whispered “Short straw goes?” before Sans was finally left alone with a single human staring at him with a glum expression.

“All right Red, step down-“

“Don’t _fucking_ call me that.”

The human started, staring at Sans as though seeing him for the first time.  Sans briefly wondered whether any of them had ever actually heard him speak before, feeling a dark sense of satisfaction at _finally_ getting a real reaction out of one of them.  Then his body gave a desperately needy twinge, and he re-focused.

“Please, just LISTEN to me… ”  He had no other choice. and if he was going to stay here then he _needed_ this, there wasn’t another way.  ”I need more.”

“W-wha…”

“The sedative you keep giving me.  I’m building up a tolerance. You need to increase the dose,” Sans pleaded, voice hardening as his headache sharpened.  “So you can do it NOW, or I’m going to freak the fuck out and blow this place to hell.  Capiche?”

“I…I need to get the doctor-“

“I SAID NOW,” Sans yelled, so loudly the human jumped.  For a second, he was terrified that they were going to leave anyway, or that he’d scared him into not helping him.  No, no, no, they didn’t understand- 

“Please,” Sans whispered, eyesockets burning and hands held out pleadingly to either side.  They were shaking so hard that his knuckles were clicking together.

“O-okay...” the human finally said, to Sans’ surprise and immense relief.  Looking a little dazed, they pulled a small bottle out of a cabinet, then reached into Sans' rib cage.  Their hands were shaking when they handled his soul, but the rush of relief that came from the clumsy jab more than made up for the sting.

“Oh thank fffucking ghaa..” Sans slurred, slumping forward as relieved tears poured freely down his face.  He didn’t notice the human’s hesitant expression as they wiped down his soiled legs and re-dressed him in the hospital smock.  Or the odd, semi-panicked phone call they made shortly after putting him back into the oversized dog kennel with the rest of the lab animals.

He didn’t notice much of anything at all.


	2. Double Dependency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings are light for this one. Eventual kustard, slow burn, frottage, drugged interactions, drug addiction, and kidnapping themes covers it...

“I’m here,” Sans said calmly.

“AAK?!” The human squeaked, whirling around to face him.  “Oh my _god._  You…how did…?”

 Sans gave them a dark grin.  Scaring them might have been a bad idea, but he’d spent the last three months chasing leads and talking Edge out of threatening the humans with anthrax and nuclear warfare.  It was also two, _freaking_ , AM in the morning, and he’d driven halfway across the country on crappy gas-station coffee and crappier country pop music to get here.  He was a bit grouchy.

“How did you get _in_ here?!” they finally managed to gasp. “The doors were locked, and…oh god, did anyone see you?  Did you br-“

“No,” Sans interrupted them curtly.  “And I’m here alone, so let’s cut the small talk.  Where is he?”

The human stared at him for a moment, then took a shaky breath and nodded.

“Yeah, ok.  Sorry, you just look so much like him that I thought…” they broke off with a nervous laugh.  “Stupid, I’m sorry.  This way.”

They moved deeper into the building.  Sans followed, shoes squeaking a little on the cheap, linoleum floor and eyelights flicking back and forth as he took in his surroundings.

“Maintenance?” he muttered under his breath.  That’s what the human’s email had called this area, but the word ‘maintenance’ brought to mind tools, cleaning supplies, and equipment halfway through the process of being repaired.  This space was just a mess of lazy duct-work, wire conduits, and pipes, crisscrossed and bolted together without discernable plan or pattern.  Some of it even punched right through the cheap, plaster walls and water-stained ceilings, like the architect had slapped a new building on top of a much older one without worrying about how everything was going to connect.  The result looked like a cross between a plumber’s worst nightmare, and the underbelly of the Core.  Sans snickered to himself.  Ironic as hell for a building called ‘University of Ebott, Modern Science and Biology.’ 

The human opened a door that led to a set of concrete stairs and began walking up them.  Sans gave the offending piece of architecture a glare before trudging after his lead with a sigh.  Four flights later, he was gasping for breath, sweating lightly under his jacket, and thoroughly irritated with this entire affair.  Would it really have been _that_ hard to meet him up here instead of in the creepy basement?  Or even, you know, used an elevator?

“Through here,” the human whispered, pushing a door open and peeking through before motioning him to follow.  Sans stepped forward, eyeing the new area cautiously as he caught his breath.  Was that it?  Walk up a few flights of stairs and finally rescue Edge’s brother from the humans?  After it had taken an aforementioned three months of searching to just _find_ him?

Sans narrowed his eyesockets suspiciously.  When was anything ever that easy?

 “Nice of you to come forward with this on your own,” he called to the human, keeping his tone calm and easy-going.  “You uh…you looking for a reward or something?  The email you sent was pretty vague.”

The human crossed their arms tightly against their chest and kept walking.

“No, I don’t want a reward.  I was just…I’m not a bad person,” they said in a very small voice.  “If I knew before that…” they broke off and shook their head.  “God, it doesn’t even matter.”

They walked in silence for a long minute.  It was dark, but Sans could make out warm, wood paneling on the walls, and heavy doors with names inscribed on their crystal-glass windows.  Expensive, classy, probably even a destination for the campus tour, come to think of it.  No exposed pipes or water-stained ceilings up here.

“Matters to me.  To you too, I bet.  Might have gotten yourself one of these if you’d kept your mouth shut,” Sans pointed out, rapping on one of the doors with a knuckle as he walked past.  “Nice cushy job with lots of benefits and a big office with your name on the door.  Why the change of heart?”

The human looked up at the doors with a bitter, cynical expression, then looked away.

“Those are labs, not offices.  And I didn’t have a change of heart,” they said shortly, sounding mad instead of guilty for the first time.  “I just didn’t have all the facts.”

“Facts?  What facts?” Sans asked, struggling to keep his tone calm.  Kidnapping was kidnapping, there weren’t a lot of _facts_ to get.

“A lot of stuff.  Like…”  They broke off with an odd strangled sound. “Just…let me show you.”

They roughly scrubbed at their eyes with their shirtsleeve, then walked up to a door with a biohazard-yellow sign that read ‘Laboratory Animals’ pinned to the front.

“In here,” they said, swiping a keycard through a reader.  The door beeped and popped open.  Immediately, warm air and the musty smell of dogs rolled out, along with the soft scritches and sighs of calm, confined animals stirring in their sleep.  Sans walked forward, expression uncertain as the human led him to the back of the room.  A large dog kennel with plastic sides had been placed there, in a corner by itself.  The human tapped on the side, then knelt down in front of it.

“Red?  Hey Red, wake up.  Your cousin’s here,” the human said softly, pulling the door open.  Sans started, eyes widening with shock as a sleepy, skeletal face appeared in the doorway.

“Red, come here.”

A skeleton that might have been Sans’ identical twin obediently crawled out of the kennel, got to his feet, and stared blankly at the wall.

“He’s been drugged,” the human explained.  Their voice sounded faint and tinny, as though it were coming from very far away.  “He…doesn’t talk or do much while he’s high, but if you want him to do something you just ask and he’ll usually just-“

“You _drugged_ him?”  Sans asked disbelievingly.  The logical part of his mind unhelpfully noted that this actually made sense.  These people had somehow captured, subdued, and studied an edgier, more violent version of himself for the last four months.  There weren’t a whole lot of ways that could end well for them.

“I’m sorry,” the human said, sounding close to tears.  “It’s why I didn’t know.  Dr. Elenchi asked us to keep him like this all the time and he doesn’t _talk_ so I thought he was just…like the dogs...”

“Sans?” Sans called quietly, completely ignoring his guide.  The other skeleton started, then looked up at him with a small, confused frown.  “Hey Sans, you in there buddy?”

Slowly, the little skeleton took a step forward, closed his eyes, and pressed his forehead into Sans’ sternum with a quiet sniffle. 

“Hey, it’s ok.  You’re gonna be fine,” Sans murmured, giving him a tentative pat on the back.  The little skeleton relaxed against him with a low whimper, then buried his face in the front of Sans’ jacket and wrapped his arms around his shoulders.  Sans stiffened for a moment, then tentatively returned the hug.

“You said he doesn’t talk?  Because of this drug?” Sans asked, looking at the human over the top of his double’s head.

“Yeah.  It’s called M-thorazine, and he’s been getting 10 ccs morning and evening,” they said turning around to rummage through a cabinet.  “They told me it was just for anxiety, but then he started building up a tolerance and actually broke through enough to…”

They turned around, bottle in hand, then blinked with surprise.  The two skeletons were gone. 

“Oh no, wait!” The human gasped, bolting out of the room and looking back and forth with panicked disbelief.  There was no, friggin’ way they’d gotten out of the building already.  Red never moved faster than a carefree amble while he was high, and the skeleton who’d come to rescue him had just about died coming up the stairs.  What the _heck,_ had they just…vanished into thin air?

The human paused, then looked down at the bottle of M-thorazine in their hand.  Come to think of it, vanishing skeletons weren’t _that_ far of a leap.  They’d be the first to admit that humans understood very little about how magic worked. 

Either way, Red was NOT going to be ok if he missed a dose.

“You need this…” they called out uncertainly, voice trailing off as they held out the bottle, half expecting that to just…disappear too.  When it didn’t, they lowered their arm back to their side and took a deep breath. Email…they could send another email, hopefully before things got too bad.  First thing first though, they had to get the heck out of the building and make it look like they hadn’t been here.  They didn’t want to think about what might happen if anyone found out they’d ‘stolen’ one of the university’s most valuable research subjects.

They hurried back down the stairs and to the back door.  As they were locking up, they realized that they still had the bottle of sedative in their hand.  After a moment’s hesitation, they pocketed it and hurried away.

===

“All right, you gotta let go now,” Sans said softly, trying to get his upper arms free of the other skeleton’s grip.

“Mnnn,” the other Sans whined, trembling as his double patiently tried to pry his hands away.

“All right, whatever,” Sans sighed, quickly giving up on the attempt.  Awkwardly, he reached around his new chest ornament to fumble at the door handle.  His arms seemed to be exactly two inches too short to reach anything useful. 

“Really?” Sans groused no one in particular, letting his arms fall to his sides.  His double used the opportunity to nuzzle into his sternum with a contented sigh.  It would have been funny if Sans couldn’t feel an undercurrent of dark loneliness to the act, like something inside the little skeleton was screaming for contact and desperately relieved to get it, even if the source was a bit reluctant.

And, of course, if he’d give it a rest just long enough for Sans to open the goddamn door.

“Screw it,” Sans muttered, wrapping his arms behind the other’s back again.  Carefully, he eyed the inside of the small, battered sedan, trying to map the inside with his mind.  After a moment’s consideration, he took a deep breath and called on his magic.  The shortcut was so brief that the most jarring part was finding himself sprawled across the backseat of the car, instead of the jump itself.  It certainly didn’t help that Edge’s brother was now draped happily across his chest.

“Oh come _on,_ ” Sans grumbled, trying to wiggle out from under his counterpart. 

“Mnnn,” the other Sans moaned, pressing his face into the space between his counterpart’s neck and clavicle.  His hands were firmly trapped underneath Sans’ torso now, not that he seemed to mind.

“ _Damn_ , they’ve got you doped up.” Sans groaned, letting his head fall back against the polyester seat cushion with a soft thump.  Now what?  He could hardly drive if Edge’s brother was going to keep being so aggressively cuddly, and home was too far away for a shortcut.

“All right, seriously this time,” Sans grumbled, arching upward a little to give his double’s hands room to get out from under his torso.  The other skeleton inhaled sharply, then pressed back against his unintentionally trapped prisoner with a needy whine.

“What are you…?” Sans squirmed as what was most likely his counterpart’s pelvis ground against the space between his legs.  “Ooohhh no, not happening.  Get off m-haahh?!”

“Hnngh, nngh, aahhh,” the other Sans groaned, grinding roughly against his counterpart.  The flimsy hospital gown he was dressed in had ridden up to his hip joints, and a tell-tale glow was flickering to life behind the fabric-

_CLANG-_

“OW, fuck-“ Sans spat, staggering backward holding his jaw.  Where the hell had that lamp-post come from?  And was it suddenly a lot colder out here or…

His t-shirt sleeves slipped off his shoulders and fell down to his elbows.  Sans blinked, then looked down at himself, feeling vaguely surprised to see his own, bare ribs and sternum where his jacket and shirt should have been.

“Heh,” he said weakly, tugging the sleeves off his arms and stuffing them in his shorts pocket.  That was a first.  Shortcuts had a tendency to go wonky if he didn’t plan them out first, but it was usually a ‘land in the wrong place’ sort of wonky, not ‘teleport shirt-sleeves and not t-shirt’ sort of wonky.  Though speaking of ending up in the wrong place...

“How far did I…?” he murmured to himself, then sighed with relief when he saw his car only a few yards away.  He took a step toward it and pulled out his phone, then hesitated, reluctant to call Edge or Papyrus to come help him.  The professors at this university had shown a...concerning proclivity for capturing and experimenting on skeletons.  Edge was annoying, but Sans still didn’t want him to end up drugged and locked in a dog kennel for the rest of his life if the wrong people got ahold of him.

On the other hand, he was parked right on the edge of campus.  Staying here until his double’s drug trip wore off wasn’t a good idea either.

“All right horny-me, how am I gonna get you back home?” he sighed to himself, pocketing his phone and walking back over to the car.  Carefully, he peeked in the back window.  His double was curled up on the backseat, face buried Sans’ jacket and the middle part of his t-shirt.  His chest was rising and falling evenly, body relaxed and bare sacrum still glowing a soft crimson against the nondescript grey of the seat cushions.  Fast asleep.

“Well, that works too,” Sans sighed, then chuckled to himself.  Just fuck and crash, huh?  Skeleton after Sans’ own heart.

And hopefully with his sleeping habits too?  They _were_ interdimensional copies of each other, and Sans was a heavy sleeper once he managed to drift off.

Carefully, Sans eased the driver-side door open and slipped into the seat.  The other Sans mumbled sleepily, then fell still with a soft sigh.

“’bout time I had some luck,” Sans muttered to himself.  Gently, he reached back and tugged the hem of the other’s hospital gown back down over his backside, then started the engine and carefully began driving back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UGHHH, I accidentally painted myself into a corner with Red's name, because 'Red' ended up being a derogatory nickname and he hates it and anyone who uses it is now automatically a jerk. FINE, everybody can just be named Sans then *grumbles to self*
> 
> Also, I've been trying to find a place to use the phrase 'aggressively cuddly' for months now. SUCCESS.


	3. Another Goddamn Quest Plotline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge and Papyrus go take care of an errand.
> 
> No real warnings for this one. Papyrus gets inappropriately ogled by a Fell monster?

_Earlier that evening..._

 

Edge swore under his breath, then leaned left and slammed the throttle open.  The bike shot forward, just barely skidding ahead of a minivan that was trying to merge on top of him.  The move brought him skidding up to Chevrolet’s bumper, and he just barely managed to slip between it and a blue pickup truck, close enough to touch each with an outstretched arm.  Gritting his teeth, he lane-split up a short row of cars until he managed to pull out into a clear section of the HOV lane.  

"FUCKING ASSHOLE!" he shouted over his shoulder when the car behind him belatedly laid on its horn.  He tried to take a breath, grimacing as his passenger's leather-clad, bone arms squeezed around his rib-cage hard enough to make his chest creak.

“TOO TIGHT!” He yelled through his helmet visor.  He doubted that Papyrus could hear him over the 70 mile-per-hour wind, but after a little more prying, the arms reluctantly loosened.  Edge took a deep breath, scanned the road to make sure they were somewhat safe, then gently patted Papyrus' hand in lieu of an apology.  He supposed that near misses were unnerving, even when you were used to them.  And even though he would never admit it out loud, he was grateful for Papyrus' assistance on these missions.  Even if he acted like a pampered, silver spoon-born baby at times.

“ALMOST THERE,” he shouted.  “IT’S THE NEXT RAMP.”

Papyrus gave him a light squeeze in response, just long enough that Edge could feel him shaking.  For a moment, he considered pulling off to the side of the road to check in, but quickly discarded the idea.  The side of a busy highway wasn’t exactly a safe place to calm the Creampuff down.  Better to wait once they were in a slightly more private place before having a discussion.

Two minutes later, Edge took an off-ramp, pulled around to the service lane behind a row of two-and-three storey shops, and shut off the engine.  Papyrus immediately staggered off the bike, sat heavily against a brick wall, and fumbled for the chin-strap on his helmet with trembling, gloved fingers.

 “Oh my GOD.  How do you ride that thing REGULARLY without getting yourself killed?!” he gasped, voice uneven and muffled by the mirrored visor.

“Don’t,” Edge warned, catching his hand before he could take the helmet off.  “This isn’t your backyard, Creampuff.  Do you need a minute?”

 “No…no, I will be fine,” Papyrus groaned, staring at Edge’s black and chrome streetbike like it had personally offended him before looking up at Edge.  He could practically hear the grin behind the mirrored visor as Papyrus said, “it takes more than a single, terrifying moment to throw ME off my guard, after all.”

“Is that so?  Because you don’t look fine to me.  Also, you can drop the act, because that was scary as fuck and you SHOULD be unnerved.  If I hadn't gotten us out of the way we would both likely be too injured to move.  What’s the codeword?” Edge asked, kneeling down beside him.

“Skyhome,” Papyrus said immediately, straightening his shoulders and putting his hands into his lap.

“And what do you do if you hear that?”  Edge asked, picking up Papyrus' hands and looking over his boots and jacket to make sure all visible bone was covered.

“Run into the city and find a place to hide,” Papyrus recited, tolerating the inspection with easy patience.

“And you only come out?”

“When you call me and say ‘back to Skyhome,” Papyrus said promptly. “Otherwise it may be a trick.”

“And if I do not return in two hours?”

“…make my way back to Skyhome without you.”

This last statement was said with noticeable reluctance, as it always was, but Edge merely nodded instead of commenting. “Good,” he said, then stood and helped Papyrus to his feet.  “How are you now?”

“I am fine, as I said I would be.”

Edge rolled his eyelights.  “And you also required a minute to achieve that mental state.  Stay close now, this shouldn't take long but we do have to walk two blocks to get there.  Act confident, and nobody will stop us.”

Papyrus nodded and obediently fell into step as Edge stepped out onto the street in front of the shops.  The late-afternoon sun gave every surface a golden tint, and Edge couldn’t hold back a shiver as warmth curled soothingly around his bones.  It felt something like dipping into a blissfully hot bath at the end of a very long, and very cold day. 

After a second, he shook it off and glanced back at Papyrus.  The tale-verse skeleton’s helmet was tilted upward toward the sun, posture loose and steps slow.  He was already straggling several paces behind.  Narrowing his eyes, Edge scooped up a small piece of gravel, gauged it's weight, then flung it at Papyrus’ helmet.  The rock pinged sharply off the visor and he jumped, looked around, then hurried forward.

“I said to stay close,” Edge said patiently.

“Sorry,” Papyrus murmured.  “The sun was very distracting.”

Edge nodded absently, glancing at every passing human as they made their way up the sidewalk.  Luckily, only a few were out at this time, and they weren’t paying much attention to him or Papyrus.  Very few even looked up from their phones as they passed, and those who did just gave his mirrored motorcycle helmet a slightly bemused expression as they passed.  Strange, but fortunate, and Edge certainly wasn’t about to complain.  The less attention they drew, the better.

About halfway down the street, they ducked into an alley and began picking their way across the litter-strewn asphalt.  The din from the street began to grow quieter, but it was an odd sort of quiet.  Rather like someone was wrapping Edge’s skull in a thin sheet of plastic, slowly building up layer after layer of the material until even their footfalls were eerily muffled. They were about halfway down the alley when the shadow of the adjacent building started to become darker and hazier, as though the plastic had made its way over his eyes as well.  Edge cocked his head, eyelights darting back and forth as he listened intently.  It was difficult to see through his mirrored visor, but there were cameras mounted on the walls around them.  Four…maybe a fifth hidden in the shadows of a crumbling eave above them.  And just ahead…

“Helmet off.  This is the place,” Edge murmured to Papyrus, slipping his own helmet off and tucking it under an arm.  “It looks you are punctual Alphys.  For once,” he said more loudly.

“Yeah?  Guess it’s wasted though.  ‘Cause Alphys isn't here, and SHE told you to come ALONE,” growled someone with the gravely voice of a heavy smoker.  Papyrus jumped and Edge protectively took a half-step forward as a scarred, rail-thin crocodile monster stepped out of a deeply-set doorsill.  She glared at Papyrus, then double took, mouth curling into an incredulous sneer.  “Oh. Wow.  Guess it doesn’t really matter after all?  Why the hell are you dragging a BUTTERFLY around?”

“He is not a butterfly,” Edge replied evenly.  “And given the setting, I would assume that neither of us are especially interested in lingering here for long.”

Bratty snorted, slit-pupiled eyes still fixed almost hungrily on Papyrus' face.  “It’s no biggie.  We’ve got a pocket set up here.  The humans, like, won’t see anything Alphys doesn’t want them to see?  Besides, now I gotta know.  What fucking rock did you find this sweet little thing under?”  Her teeth parted into a grin that showed far too many sharp, glittering teeth.  “Any more of them up for grabs?”

“It is none of your business, gutter-spawn,” Edge said coldly, then glanced pointedly at one of the cameras.  “Do you have my information, or has Alphys decided to forfeit payment?”

Bratty rolled her eyes.  “Sheesh, lighten up a little.  I didn’t, like, MEAN anything by it.”  She dragged a small satchel over her head, then tossed it toward Edge.  It landed a few feet away from his boots with a light thump. 

“There you go.  Uh…” she paused, staring off into space as though she was trying to remember something.  “Alphys told me to tell you that she’s got no idea where the humans take disappeared monsters.  And it’s TRUE,” she added angrily, as though this fact was Edge’s fault.  “She’s been trying to crack them open for, like, a month now and she has been pissy.  As.  HELL.  But she DID, like find someone who could figure it out?  There’s an oracle from the old times who doesn’t live too far from here.  Her magic doesn’t, like, predict the future?  But she could totally find someone if she had a focus.  Or something?”  Bratty paused for a moment, looking confused.  “Whatever, I don’t remember how Alphys explained it, but she wrote it all down for you.  Directions and shit’s in the bag, and it’s yours for a ten percent discount since it wasn’t, like exactly what you asked for.  You buying?”

“An oracle?” Edge asked, eyes narrowing.  “I asked for the locations of the humans who took my brother, and Alphys is giving me an _oracle?_ ”

Bratty raised her hands and glared up at the cameras.  “Like, fucking hell, that’s all she said! ‘Tell him to go to an oracle and give him this shit.’” She turned and pointed to the satchel.  “I told you to go to an oracle, and I gave you that shit.  You gonna pay up, or do I take my bag back and tell you to go fuck off?”

Swearing under his breath, Edge pulled a pouch of coins out of his pocket, conspicuously removed seven of them, then tossed it just hard enough to land on the ground a few inches away from Bratty’s feet.

“If this blows up in my face, then I will make sure that the humans learn everything about you, Alphys,” Edge called up to the cameras.  “And we’ll see how long you hold out when they come to make YOU disappear.”  He turned back to Bratty, who had picked up the bag of coins and was carefully counting them out.  “Well?”

She gouged one of the coins with the claw on her index finger, held it up to the light, then gave him a snaggle-toothed grin.  “All yours.  And you,” she winked at Papyrus.  “You be careful, pretty butterfly.  I'd hate to find you somewhere with your wings all pinned up.”

She giggled and slipped into one of the buildings before Edge could retaliate. 

"If Alphys EVER sends her out to deal with me again..." Edge snarled, trailing off with a low growl.  Angrily, he grabbed the satchel, tore it open, and rapidly flicked through the contents. Two folders stuffed to overflowing with printed documents  He grabbed one at random.  It was a flyer for a shop called 'Pythia Fortuna,' with an address and a list of available wares over the image of a half-dressed human sitting above a steaming fissure in the earth.  Edge wasn't sure what the human had to do with anything, but the address looked legitimate.

“Good enough.  Let’s get out of here,” Edge nodded to Papyrus, tossing the bag over his shoulder and pulling his helmet back on.

“I have no objections,” Papyrus replied with heartfelt sincerity, hurrying out of the alley with a shudder.

They got back to the motorcycle without incident.  Once there, Edge tossed the satchel into his saddlebag and gruffly clapped Papyrus on the shoulder.

"Ow?" Papyrus said, sounding unsure.

“Good job back there,” Edge grumbled.  “And sorry. I thought that Alphys was going to meet us directly instead of sending a proxy. She would have been more...tactful.”

“Tactful?  I suppose you could call it that, though my standards for tact are much higher,” Papyrus grimaced, looking over in the general direction of the alley. “Is she always that…rude?”

“Bratty?  I suppose so, but I don't know her well.  I think her parents died when she was young, and Alphys ended up raising her.  Sans...my Sans, was the one who befriended her, so he may know her better.  I never had much reason to interact with either of them outside of work.”

Papyrus considered this for a moment, then hopped onto the bike behind Edge.  “She lost her parents?  That is absolutely tragic.  Very like most of your stories, in fact.  I can see why she would be rude,” he concluded with a grim nod.  “Did she give you what you required, at least?  You will be able to find this oracle who knows where Lost Sans is?”

“I’m not sure yet, but you are welcome to look at it with me once we get home,” Edge sighed, starting the engine.  “I will try to avoid more of the traffic this time, but please do not break my ribs if I have to evade more suicidal idiots on the way home.”

“I WON’T.  THANK YOU,” Papyrus shouted over the engine as they sped off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You would not BELIEVE how much trouble this chapter gave me. I rewrote it twice, then cut out about 1000 words and rewrote it again. AND IT IS STILL NOT PERFECT BUT IT MUST LEAVE NOW, BECAUSE I AM SICK OF IT. BLEHHHHHHH...


	4. Drunk Dates Always End Up Like This...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans is a jerk to Sans because he's Sans.
> 
> Light warnings for drug withdrawal, depictions of nausea/throwing up, and mentions of past abuse.

Sans groaned and buried his face in the wadded-up fabric beneath him, trying to block out the light and sound stabbing into his aching skull.  What the heck was that awful song?  Something about a tractor and some guy’s kinky girlfriend?   Fucking hell, even _humans_ ought to have enough decency to refresh his happy-drugs before trying this kind of psychological bullshit first thing in the morning.  He wasn’t exactly a scientist, but even he knew that there was a thicker line between experimental inquiry and downright sadism than this.

“Morning sleepy-bones,” someone called, and mercifully, the music shut off.  In response, Sans lifted his head and forced his eyes open.  The light and warmth on his face tingled, wonderful and oddly satisfying in a way he couldn’t quite describe.  He almost forgave it for blinding him until his vision finally cleared, revealing what looked very much looked like the inside of an old, beat-up sedan.  As he watched, not entirely convinced that he wasn’t hallucinating, a skeletal hand reached up and tilted the rearview mirror until it was reflecting a pair of tiny, white eyelights back into his own. 

“Who t’hell are you?” Sans slurred, tenderly rubbing his eyes with the tips of his phalanges. 

“The guy who just saved you.  How are you feeling?”  The mystery skeleton asked drily.

“Saved my… what?”

Sans weakly pushed himself upright and looked around, trying to force his sluggish mind to focus.  The seat beneath him was covered with old stains and cigarette burns, and the air smelled faintly of mildew, coffee and greasy fast-food.  The plastic moulding on the left-hand door was missing, revealing a panel of inner mechanisms held together with duct tape, packing string, and bailing wire.  This wasn’t an experiment then.  Not unless the University had suffered a severe budget cut. “The hell… Where am I?”

“This is the Reservation.  It’s just ten more minutes until we’re at the Window.  You uh…” the skeleton’s cheekbones flushed a startlingly cute shade of dark blue.  “You slept the whole time from the University.  Ya hungry?”

“No,” Sans groaned, curling inward as his head gave a nauseating throb.  “Gonna be sick-“

“Sick?  You’re…oh,” the other skeleton trailed off as Sans puked noisily all over the floor of the sedan.  “Aw man, really?  This isn’t even my car.”

Sans groaned angrily in response, shaking as his body brought up an acrid mess that tasted just enough like artificial strawberry to bring on a round of painful dry-heaves.  Goddamn drugs-

“Ok….  Just… just hang out, ok?  We’re almost there,” the other skeleton winced, rolling down the windows.  Sans whimpered as the breeze circulated around the inside of the car, making his head pound and eyesockets water.  A tiny wisp of smoke curled up from the carpet where the sick had soaked in, adding burnt plastic to the other smells assaulting his senses.

“Sedative,” he croaked, feeling overstimulated tears roll down the sides of his face.  “Need a dose.”

“What?”

“That sedative they had me on,” Sans spat through gritted teeth.  “I’m addicted to it.”

The eyes in the rearview mirror glanced back at him in sudden alarm, then quickly re-focused on the road.  “Oh...”

“Oh?  What do you mean ‘oh?!”

“Nothing.  Just hang out.  We’re almost there,” the other skeleton said, tone so full of forced calm that Sans wanted to strangle him.

“I can’t fucking _hang_ _out_.  I’m in withdrawal, you shithead,” he snarled. “Come on, just pull over and stick me.  It won’t take long.”

“I can’t.  We’re almost there,” he repeated firmly.

“You can’t?  What the fuck do you mean _you can’t_?  You…" Sans head throbbed, and he doubled over with a pained groan.  "Here, just give me the bottle and I’ll stick myself."

He held out a hand and forced himself to look up again.  Everything, from the light on his face to the light brush of the polyester seat over his legs was almost unbearable.  It was like his nerves had been rubbed raw, leaving him sweaty, trembling, and barely able to think. The idea of stabbing his own soul with a needle had never sounded so appealing.

“Uh...sorry, but I can't,” the other skeleton said sheepishly.  “I just…don’t have any.”

Sans’ soul went cold.  “You… “

Nausea momentarily overridden by panic, he shoved himself up and into the front seat. 

“Oh, for crying out loud.  Could you _not_?”  The other skeleton grumbled, trying to keep the car under control as Sans fumbled through the fast-food wrappers and coffee cups littering the floor and passenger seat. 

“No…no, no, no, no, **no** -“  Sans muttered, angrily tossing the garbage aside.  Panting hard, he turned to stare suspiciously at the driver.  He was so short that he was sitting on a stack of books to reach the steering wheel, and his arms and legs were oddly fine-boned and fragile-looking.  He also wasn’t wearing a shirt, revealing the most pristine, well-shaped ribs and vertebrae that Sans had ever seen outside an airbrushed pinup photo.  The image was startlingly incongrous with the drab interior of the car and the bit of ketchup dripped on his sternum.  The fuck…had this guy been a Butterfly before the Underground had been breached?  Might explain a few things, starting with the stuck-up, prissy way he talked.

“All right, sweetheart.  I don’t know who you are or what the fuck you think you’re doing, but you have to take me back,” Sans said with forced patience.  “So thanks for the uh… _rescue_ , but no thanks.  You can just drop me off outside the university. I’ll walk back in-“

“I’m not taking you back,” the other skeleton interrupted coldly, giving him a disgusted look.  Sans returned the look with incredulous fury, spluttering under his breath as the asshole continued in a dismissive tone.  “You’ll be fine.  Like I said, we’re almost there-“

“YOU’RE NOT FUCKING LISTENING TO ME!” Sans shrieked.  The other skeleton jumped, swerving a little as he fixed Sans with a glare.  “Would you just… Oh my god, why the fuck am I even trying to reason with you?!  You know what?  I’m done.  Go fuck yourself, I’m out.”

Sans squeezed his eyes shut and reached for an ability he hadn’t used in what felt like forever-

The world shifted.  Hot asphalt pressed underneath his tarsals, right before his body’s left-over momentum shoved him forward into a painful skid across the side of the road. 

“Ughhhh,” he groaned, stumbling to his feet and brushing the dirt off his face.  He must have misjudged how fast they were going.  Teriffic.  Now he got to have road rash on his forehead and feel sick as a dog on the same time.  Today just kept getting better and better…

Sans froze as his surroundings came into focus.  Slowly, he staggered forward a step, completely lost for words.  He was outside.  And not just outside.  For a moment, the sheer openness of the cloudless, blue sky and sparse, desert landscape overtook his discomfort, so vast and empty that it was almost terrifying.  He could literally walk for miles before reaching those little hills out on the horizon, with nothing but scrub bushes and cactus to stumble on along the way.  No roof on the sky, no maze of caverns and tunnels to wade through.  No barrier to block the way.  Just open space, and so much of it that it looked fucking endless…

The screech of overtaxed brakes came from behind him, followed by the sound of a door slamming shut.

“What the hell are you doing?”  the other skeleton yelled at him.  Sans shook himself, then began to walk back down the road in the direction they’d came, staring at the ground to avoid looking up into that chillingly open sky. 

“Stop!  Goddammit, I did NOT spend months tracking you down just so you could go back!”  the other skeleton yelled, jogging to catch up.  Sans ignored him, hugging his arms tight to his midsection and breathing deeply as he forced himself to put one foot forward, then the other.  He didn’t think he’d ever felt this awful before.  Everything from the dirt under his bare feet, to the fresh scrapes on his face hurt like hell, but he knew it would all stop if he could just get a dose.  It would make everything feel better, it would be worth it.  The University couldn’t be far.

The other skeleton staggered to a halt, gasping for breath.

“All right…All right fine.  FINE!  You want to go back, that’s on you, but what do you want me to say to your brother when I see him later today?” he panted.  Sans froze, feeling traitorous tears prick at the corners of his eyesockets.  Papyrus…

His expression hardened.  No. Papyrus had been killed when the humans raided the Underground.  He couldn't be alive.  He couldn’t be, he _couldn’t-_

“Ask him why the fuck it wasn’t HIM who came to get me,” Sans screamed back, angrily scrubbing his eyesockets with the palms of his hands.  He dropped his hands, then saw a car approaching on the road.  Quickly, he stumbled forward, waving his arms back and forth.  “HEY!  HEY STOP!  HELP, YOU’VE GOTTA HELP ME!”

The car sped past, giving Sans a glimpse of a wide-eyed human behind the wheel and an even wider-eyed human kid holding up a smartphone as they blew past. 

“FUCK YOU THEN!”  He yelled, flipping them off with both hands before turning around and continuing down the road.  There was a soft ‘pop’ and the other skeleton appeared ahead of him out of thin air, eyesockets blank and expression furious. 

“Don’t get me wrong.  I’d love to give you back to the humans and let you die in that cage like a dog, but unlike you, I made a promise to someone and I ain’t gonna break it,” the other skeleton said softly.  “You’re coming back to Skyhome so your LITTLE BROTHER will stop risking his life trying to hunt you down, and then we’re never going to see each other again.  You can either play nice, or I’ll drag you with me.  You look like the stupid type, so I’m gonna give you to the count of three to make up your mind.  One.”

Sans screamed wordlessly and summoned a wave of blasters, shoving his fury, his hurt, and his feelings of betrayal, abandonment, and self-hate into them.  Without waiting for a response, he fired them all on the other skeleton, keeping the beams up until the giant, bestial skulls ran dry and dissolved into wisps of dust.  Panting, he staggered sideways and fell to his knees, swallowing hard as a wave of nausea threatened to make him puke again.  Out of the corner of his eye he saw a car come screeching to a halt and a human poked their head out of the window, holding their phone at arms’ length and babbling excitedly at the screen.

"Hey...help me..." he gasped, trying to push himself upright.

“Nice try, asshole,” the other skeleton spat behind him.

“Fuck’ff,” Sans groaned, weakly pulling away as the other skeleton seized his upper arm and jerked him into a shortcut.

“HRRRRGK-“ Sans dry-heaved, falling to his hands and knees and trembling as his insides forced a trickle of bitter, acidic magic into the back of his throat.  Chest heaving, he curled his fingertips into the grassy earth beneath him, wondering incredulously how far that teleport had been.  This was nothing like the desert highway where they’d left the car.  The air was cool and smelled faintly of mud, full of insects and small, brown birds.  Trees with ivory bark and broad leaves grew thickly across a small clearing, forming a shallow ring around a clear, still pond.  Sans didn’t have much time to look at it before the other skeleton dragged him to his feet, turned him around, and shoved him forward.  Just ahead of them at the apex of the pond was a twisted, sandstone spire with a broad tunnel that went clear through the center.  Even sick and achingly exhausted, Sans could feel the power emanating off of it, like mist and ripples spreading outward from the base of a thundering waterfall.  Startled, he took half a step back, staring at the landmark with caution and wonder.  He’d never felt anything like this before.

“Come on,” the other skeleton snapped, then roughly dragged him inside.


	5. Heart to Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge and Papyrus get back from their mission.

ALARM TRIGGER: CODE ZERO

LOCATION: CENTRAL VALLEY [34.54510; -111.85936]

RECOMMENDED ACTION: MOBILIZE IMMEDIATELY FOR COLLECTION

DETAILS: SENSOR TRIP IN RURAL AREA SHARPLY INCONSISTENT WITH BASELINE.  SATELLITE FOOTAGE OBTAINED.

A slender hand touched the ‘play’ icon on the screen.  Below the warning message, a top-down image of two tiny figures appeared, staggering northward along a stretch of highway.  One appeared to be helping, or perhaps dragging, the other beside him.

“You again,” the figure behind the screen murmured thoughtfully, touching one of the skeletons with a fingertip.  The image zoomed in, but it was much too grainy and low-resolution to make out anything other than the monster’s large, round eyesockets and permanent, skeleton’s smile before the pair of them simply…vanished.

 

===

 

The ride out of the city was mercifully short and unremarkable.  Papyrus still leapt off and onto the wonderfully solid and unmoving ground THE SECOND Edge stopped the engine.  Mostly on the sake of principle.

“It isn’t going to spontaneously explode, Creampuff.”

Papyrus glared suspiciously at the Inherently Unstable Vehicle, an expression that was sadly lost behind his mirrored visor. 

“That may be true, but it still attracts accidents with alarming efficiency,” he grumbled, unbuckling the helmet.  Fresh air curled around his skull, cooling his forehead and the edge of his parietals where the helmet’s cushioning had started to chafe.  Another mission completed, and somehow, all of his bones were still intact.  He could only assume he’d been gifted with an extraordinary amount of luck to have avoided becoming a dusty stretch of pavement once again.  “We could always use one of the larger Windows instead of this one when you return to find Miss Pythia.  One large enough to fit a car through, perhaps?”

Edge rolled his eyes and began to wheel the motorcycle off of the road.  “We could, if you want to alert every human within hearing distance that we’ve arrived.   Larger Window, larger impact.  I’ve yet to see one that hasn’t been completely defiled by human tourism.”

“Then we go in as tourists!” Papyrus suggested helpfully, jogging to catch up to Edge.  “Humans are similar enough to skeletons that a disguise would let us slip past unnoticed.”

“Too risky,” Edge grunted.

“But we pass as humans all the time in disguise!”

“Certainly.  For a few seconds in poor light and from behind.  If the human in question is particularly dull-witted.” 

“But we walked past several humans today?  In broad daylight?”

“Yes. And each of them noticed us immediately.  Hopefully, they assumed we were eccentric and not suspicious, but it was still a significant risk," Edge growled, then continued in a calmer tone.  "Speaking of which, I’m curious.  How did your Sans react when you told him that you were going on another mission with me to the Surface?”

Papyrus fell silent, looking out over the landscape.  Just ahead, a set of abandoned train tracks jutted out across a dry ravine, propped up on a twisted, blackened truss that looked as though it had been burned a very long time ago.  To either side, waist-high grass stretched out to the horizon, streaked with purple wildflowers that rippled in a hypnotic wave beneath the gentle breeze.  The sun touched the far hills in the distance, bathing everything in the rich, saturated light of sunset.   Papyrus shivered, resisting the urge to turn his face into the sunlight and bask.  There was always something about the warmth and beautiful light that felt fundamentally right.  In a strange way, it felt welcoming, as though he were being greeted by an old friend.  An old friend who, if Sans had any say in it, Papyrus would never see again.  Not that he would ever actually say so, or try to stop him.  No, Sans would just tuck all of his worry and concern into a neat little box and sit on it, letting the emotions smother and fester for the sake of not starting a conflict.  And Papyrus would know that he was upset, even if he would never admit it. He always knew.

So no, he hadn't told him what he was doing.  What else was he supposed to do when Sans wasn't willing to treat him like an adult? 

“My hope is that he didn’t react at all,” Papyrus said, scuffing his boot in the dirt. 

“Excellent plan," Edge said sarcastically as he pushed the motorcycle past the bridge's warning signs and out onto the broken tracks.  "I’m sure that if you continue lying to him, he will eventually come to a state of understanding.  Especially if you leave out the particulars of where you are and what you’re doing.  His sense of betrayal will surely be less painful the longer you wait."  

“Thank you for your concern about my brother’s feelings,” Papyrus replied cheerfully, placing each foot with care as the bridge dwindled to nothing but the pair of metal beams stretching out over a long drop into a rocky gorge.  “I suspect you would care more if you weren’t trying to distract me from further inquiry into a safer mode of transportation.”

Edge barked out a laugh, coming to a stop at the very edge of the tracks with the motorbike balanced precariously in front of him.  “Fair enough, Creampuff.”

The sun began to dip below the horizon.  As it fell, magic gathered in the air at the edge of the bridge, rippling along the burned-out structure in a shimmer of warmth and distorted light.  Beneath their feet, the old metal gleamed, and the ghost of a vibration ran across the bars, like a train was thundering along the tracks.  The bridge suddenly felt more rigid under Papyrus’ feet, as though it were still supported by unburned steel and concrete structures planted firmly on both sides of the gorge.

Without looking down, they stepped over the gap.

There was a slight, vertiginous sensation of falling, even as Papyrus’ foot found the solid bridge on the other side of the Window.  Reality might be thin enough to open up a path between the Surface and Skyhome in this time and place, but the laws of the universe still demanded that the action of stepping off a bridge be immediately followed by a nasty fall.  Perhaps a part of them really did fall, if only to maintain the balance of a world built so firmly on physical laws.  It would only be fair.

“Either way, I don’t think Sans is back from that mission that I know nothing about and assume is an innocuous playdate with Dr Alphys,” Papyrus mused thoughtfully.  “He did say that he would be staying overnight.”

Edge rolled his eyes with an exasperated groan as he rolled the motorcycle off the bridge.  On this side of the Window, the railroad tracks had been replaced with a paved footpath, lined with glowing lantern mushrooms and pale, blue grass that whispered softly as they walked past.  The sky glittered with stars, and a silver creek burbled contentedly over the rocks beneath the bridge.  A short distance down the path, jagged cliff walls rose up out of the earth, smooth sided with unnaturally sharp edges and crevices that were reminiscent of broken teeth.

“And by the way, I definitely don’t know that he borrows Grillby’s car for his playdates with Alphys.  Or that Asgore also has a car he would be willing to lend to me.  For playdates,” Papyrys added brightly, following Edge through the grass to the base of the cliffs. 

“ _Playdates_ ,” Edge sneered, as though the word was an especially dirty slur.  “That is the most stupid and unnecessary lie I’ve ever heard.  You’re both idiots, and if I had any say in it, you’d BOTH stay here while I went to the Surface to look for my Sans.”

Papyrus placed a hand over his soul with a shocked gasp.  “Stupid?  Unnecessary??  Such honesty!  It can only mean that you trust me!  Very deeply!!  No, no, do not protest, I completely understand.  I AM an extremely capable and attractIVE-!”

Papyrus instinctively tucked his chin as something slammed into his chest and shoved him hard against the cliff wall.  

"Ow?" he said bemusedly, fingering the the bone construct protruding from his chest.  It was deeply embedded in the stone behind him, effectively pinning him in place.

"Look at that.  I CAN throw you further than I can trust you," Edge chuckled darkly.  "Keep your guard up, Creampuff.  That one should have been easy to dodge."

"Ok? I guess I'll see you when you go to see Miss Pythia then?"  Papyrus called as Edge mounted his motorcycle and started the engine.

"Will I be able to stop you?" Edge grumbled.

"Probably not!"  Papyrus said brightly, but Edge had already gunned the engine and zoomed off.  

"Perhaps we need to talk about not stabbing me though," Papyrus muttered, looking down at his chest.  The shaft of the bone construct had neatly pierced the space between his ribs, giving him nothing more serious than a scrape and a bruise.  And a near heart-attack from the surprise.

“And not tearing up my poor jacket,”  Papyrus groused to himself, using both hands to snap off the end of the bone.  “Rude?"

He carefully pulled himself free, then inspected his clothes with a sigh. Leather was so hard to sew, and this would be such an awkward place for a patch.  He hoped Sans wouldn't notice, but if he did, he should have a story ready... 

As though his thoughts had summoned it, Sans’ distinctive ringtone plinked cheerily out of his phone.  Suppressing a flash of guilt, he immediately answered it.

“I found the other Sans.  Is Edge with you?”  Sans asked breathlessly.

"No, he just left, but I can call him.  Where are you?"  Papyrus asked, taking off at a sprint down the road.  Edge’s Sans had been found?  That was wonderful!  And a little disappointing, since it would probably mean no more missions to the Surface, but he couldn’t be too upset about that.  Edge would be so relieved...

"Toriel's.  Hurry, it's bad," Sans said grimly, then hung up the phone.


End file.
